I’m Alice Magdalene,
a dreamer, healer, thinker and feeler
I could list certifications or drop names of books and thought leaders I’ve studied, but the truth is, none of that matters as much as this: if I tell you my story, you’ll understand exactly why I’m qualified. Because I didn’t learn this from a textbook or a coaching course—I learned it from surviving. From crawling through years of spiritual warfare, narcissistic abuse, and institutional betrayal. From rebuilding myself again and again, even when no one believed me. I don’t just talk about inner child healing—I did it, in the dark, with no roadmap. I don’t just teach self-love—I earned it the hard way. I’ve lived every single word I speak. That’s why I do this work. Because when I tell you my story, you don’t just hear credentials. You feel the truth of it in your own bones. And you remember your own strength.
And that’s when the healing begins.
“There’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person back then…”
– Alice in Wonderland
Early Years, A Blessing in Disguise
I was born and raised in Windsor, Canada, on February 16th—a textbook Aquarian: curious, rebellious, and undeniably weird. From an early age, I was obsessed with healing. I had a fascination with disease, medicine, and the mysteries of life and death. I made elixirs out of woodchips and weeds, and once… I even dragged a piece of roadkill into our backyard and tried to resurrect it. My mom was not impressed.
School, needless to say, was not a welcoming or nourishing experience. Not long after stepping into the classroom I knew I didn’t belong—not because I wasn’t smart or kind. but because I experienced the world differently. I didn’t feel separation between myself and others. I had no filter, no boundaries. I shared everything—my thoughts, my dreams, even the bizarre stuff most people would keep to themselves.
That openness, instead of being welcomed, made me a target.
What followed were ten brutal years of bullying. Kids threw things at me, mocked me, called me names. Day after day. Year after year. I don’t any have memories of childhood friends. Just the imaginary Pokémon I played with at recess… and the rocks I would collect when no one else would talk to me.
Looking back, I know now that I wasn’t broken—I was just different. Sensitive. Awake. And far too honest for a world that doesn’t always know what to do with authenticity.
Astral Projection and Psychic Attacks
I often sought refuge in churches. Not because I was religious—I wasn’t—but because something about them felt true. The stillness, the beauty, the sacred silence—it felt like those walls held answers to questions no one else around me was asking, let alone answering. While other kids spent their lunch breaks gossiping and giggling, I sat alone in the pews, doing homework or simply soaking in the energy. I was searching for something I couldn’t name.
At just ten years old, I began reading and writing philosophy—driven partly by an insatiable need to understand reality, and partly by a quiet hope that if I could become someone wise enough (cool enough), then maybe I’d finally be accepted. I didn’t know it then, but that search—for truth, for belonging, for meaning—was the beginning of everything.
And then, at twelve years old, I was initiated.
Not in the human sense—no priest, no rite of passage—but something cosmic shifted. I began having spontaneous out-of-body experiences. I didn’t plan them. I didn’t even know what astral projection was at the time. But night after night, I found myself in other dimensions, visiting other timelines, gathering knowledge I could never have made up. I met figures from history, explored lost civilizations, uncovered ancient technologies, and received glimpses into the architecture of the universe.
But where there is light, there is also shadow.
Alongside these revelations came encounters with dark, inhuman entities—including Satan himself, who I met not once, but three times. When you meet something like that, you know. It’s not like in the movies. There’s a visceral, soul-level recognition: this is not of the earth. It’s unnatural, sinister, and it knows how to exploit your weaknesses. If you’re a being filled with light, it will want to destroy you.
For years, I was navigating these realms completely alone. No one around me understood. I was told it might be psychosis—even though I felt completely sane, alert, and lucid. The fear was real, but so was the knowing: this was not delusion.
Eventually, I was no longer alone. My spirit guides began to appear—first in the astral, then in waking life. One of them even saved me from physical death more than once, during particularly reckless times in my life. They began to teach me: about personal power, the nature of belief, the mechanics of manifestation, and the rules of spiritual sovereignty.
The most important lesson of all? That your strength of belief dictates your reality. No matter how frightening an entity may seem, no matter how dire your external reality appears to be, nothing—and no one—can defeat you if you stand fully in your power.
You are not here to be afraid of the dark. You are here to remember that you are the light.
Plot twist—in grade eight and for the remainder of secondary I was the most popular girl in school 😌
The Path to Femininity
Not gonna lie—I once thought my life’s purpose was to pursue a hyper-masculine career in Mechatronic Systems Engineering.
How did that happen you ask? Chalk it up to Aquarian independence. I moved out at sixteen as a self-taught computer technician. Keep in mind, this was 2006—peak dial-up-to-high-speed era—when kids were learning HTML just to bling out their Neopets pages. I was one of them. That curiosity led me to work for Blackberry, refurbish computers in tech labs across Ontario, Canada, and eventually move to Germany to study Engineering. (Okay-and my boyfriend at the time was German and homesick. Obviously, I went with him.)
I studied engineering for two years, but truthfully? Studying was the last thing I wanted to do. While I was enrolled in school, I was also working at a botanical garden run by an Indian-German couple. That’s when I started noticing the resistance. I found myself more fascinated by plants than processors—learning what flowers needed to grow, how to hybridize them, and most importantly, how to cook with the harvest.
Somehow, housework felt more meaningful than homework.
And I couldn’t figure out why.
Why was I driven to emulate the inventors in Jules Verne novels, yet deeply moved by the quiet power of women like Audrey Hepburn? Why did I keep chasing ambition like a man, while secretly longing to nurture, create, and feel like a woman?
University, Feminism, and Self-Discovery
When engineering didn’t work out, I found myself back in Canada—specifically Toronto, the capital of multiculturalism,
“boss babe” energy, adult boys, and postmodern wokeness. I had planned to study consciousness through psychology and philosophy, but the curriculum—and the culture—quickly shifted my focus.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just learning, I was questioning. Everything.
Why did modern dating feel like a string of disasters wrapped in therapy-speak? Why were we expected to believe that men and women are exactly the same—but also that there are more than two genders? Why was everyone supposedly racist, yet we were told race didn’t matter? Why was the individual prioritized over the nuclear family? Why were women told to be “strong and independent” and “wired for connection”? Why did the world seem to celebrate chaos over structure, and pit science and religion against each other like mortal enemies?
University didn’t give me answers—it gave me a front-row seat to ideological collapse. So I did what came naturally: I pushed back.
I became a kind of ideological contrarian—someone once called me the “female Jordan Peterson,” and I didn’t hate it. I challenged professors. I questioned dogma. I wrote essays that dismantled flawed arguments on inequality and identity politics. Sometimes I aced them. Sometimes I barely got a pass. But I was always telling the truth as I saw it.
While working as a research assistant in the Department of Psychology, I was recognized for my unwavering commitment to ethics and scientific integrity. And through that work—through the papers, the protests, the long nights dissecting belief systems—I discovered my own.
I believe in the sacred polarity between masculine and feminine.
I believe men and women are different—by design. I believe in protecting children, preserving truth, and restoring beauty to a world that desperately needs it.
Today, I’m a loud and proud advocate of the two-gender model, of healthy gender dynamics, and of feminine embodiment. I’ve made it my mission to challenge academic corruption, cultural confusion, and anything that asks women to become less of themselves in order to be accepted.
Narcissistic Abuse and PTSD
During my journey of self-discovery, I found myself entangled with certain men—the kind who mirrored not my worth, but my wounds. I had always believed that partnership, especially sacred union in marriage, was deeply tied to ascension. That the polarity between masculine and feminine was not just natural, but divine-a primal truth woven into the fabric of existence.
So, as a young, well-intentioned woman who saw the best in people, I entered relationships that promised depth but delivered destruction. I found myself with men who flirted behind my back, demanded everything while offering nothing, and slowly chipped away at my spirit. Over time, the wounds deepened: verbal abuse turned into emotional manipulation, sexual violations, and eventually, physical harm.
Still, I stayed. Not out of weakness, but out of a belief that love was supposed to be hard. That suffering was spiritual. That partnership was purpose. That if I just loved harder, healed more, gave more—we’d get there.
The part I missed? It takes two.
Yes, men and women are different. Yes, women are naturally more agreeable, nurturing, and empathetic. Yes, the traditional family structure is sacred. But it takes two whole people to build something functional. One-sided sacrifice is not a love story. It’s a slow death.
Through this part of my path, I came face to face with the full weight women carry in our society—and how often that burden is ignored, dismissed, or minimized. I endured a gruelling divorce and a brutal custody battle. I told the truth, but the authorities didn’t believe me. I was re-traumatized by the very systems meant to protect. I risked losing custody of the one being who taught me the true meaning of unconditional love—my son.
But I persisted. I refused to be silenced. I refused to be broken.
Because this wasn’t the first time I had faced bullies. It was just the first time I had nothing left to lose—and everything to fight for.
Working Towards a Higher Calling
Sometimes life has to push you to the limit before it shows you who you really are.
For me, that moment came at rock bottom—diagnosed with PTSD, drowning in legal fees, buried under university debt, navigating single motherhood, and staring down the terrifying reality of becoming the sole provider for my son. At the time I was working at a local bakery to get by. It was honest work, and an outlet that I took pride in, but I knew in my bones… this wasn’t it. Not for me. Not for the vision I held.
I needed more—not just financially, but in purpose and fulfillment. I was awake. And exhausted. Exhausted from the routine of trading my time and energy to support someone else’s vision, while my own dreams remained tucked away in notebooks and late-night ideas. At work, my mind wandered to the articles I longed to write, products that could heal millions, and a life where my unique gifts were not just acknowledged, but activated.
That’s when I made the decision: to pursue my passion with everything I had. To get certified. To build something of my own. To stop waiting for “the right time” to do it. I chose to embody the healer I always knew I was—and I haven’t looked back since.
The moment I committed, the universe responded. I went on LinkedIn and typed “Psychic Medium” in the job search bar and without even thinking I applied to the only position that came up. A few days later, I was interviewed. I gave my first ever intuitive reading during that interview 🤫, and was told I was
“the real deal.”
The right people continued to appear. Opportunities unfolded. I began crossing paths with some of the most aligned, influential, and supportive souls I’d ever encountered. Suddenly, the path I once had to crawl through was being paved beneath my feet.
And that’s the thing about alignment—when it’s right, it’s undeniable. Doors open. Resources flow. Purpose becomes non-negotiable.
Because the truth is, my rock bottom wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of everything I was born to become.
Emerged with Wisdom and Enlightenment
My lived experience taught me more than any book, podcast, or certification ever could. I didn’t just study self-empowerment—I survived it. I learned that there is nothing you can’t overcome—not even literal demons—if you choose to believe in yourself.
Faith isn’t just a concept; it’s the foundation of everything I do.
It’s the anchor of my practice and the reason I’m still standing.
Your mind is the most powerful tool you’ll ever have. It can pull you out of chaos, protect you from harm, and call in a life beyond what you thought was possible. Yes, there are techniques and tools that help—and I use many of them—but none are more powerful than what already lives inside you. When you remember that, you become unstoppable.
I still tune into Joe Dispenza. I still find peace in Eckhart Tolle. I still disappear into books. But at the end of the day, I know the truth: nothing outside of me will ever save me. Only I can do that.
And that changes everything.
Always Be True to Yourself
When my maternal grandmother was passing from brain cancer, she gave me one final piece of advice: “Always be true to yourself.”
At the time, I didn’t fully understand the weight of those words—but now, I live by them. Every single day, I learn how to honour myself a little more, love myself a little deeper, and embody the truth of who I really am.
This life is temporary, transient. We take nothing with us but who we are. Not the titles. Not the possessions. Just the imprint we leave behind. The more we dare to express our truest selves, the more eternal we become. Through self-expression, we live on. Through authenticity, we rise.
I’m not just here to survive this life—I’m here to transcend it. To ascend, yes. But also to leave a legacy of light. My mission is to awaken that same truth in others: that you are not broken, not missing anything. You are Christ consciousness in human form.
You are an extension of the divine. Your unique self-expression is not random—it is God, revealing itself through you.
You are already worthy. Already perfect. Already enough.
Not because someone on YouTube said so. Not because a reel told you to believe in yourself. But because of who you already are—and who you become every time you choose yourself, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
If you’re feeling that weight right now—if choosing yourself feels like a battle—know this: the price of self-betrayal is always higher. Your soul knows. You were made for more.
Maybe this is your calling.
